Starring:
Date: November 20, 2009
Summary:
The two men of authority find themselves on the same page via largely non-verbal communication.
"A Conversation About Nothing"
Times Square
"—right, just that, don't bother specifying any people or places. One of those five-percent-true messes, you know how it is." George is hanging out near a magazine vendor's stand, talking into his cell phone, an issue of People folded in half and tucked under his other arm.
It's busy. It's full of pedestrians gawking and crowds of tourists. And Fel is weaving through it all with the busy ease of a needle through a particolored fabric, though he himsself remains a very greay thread - dour, dressed in gray, and looking often over his shoulder. To the point that he bumps into George himself. Paranoid much?
George steps aside, starts to say something— stops. Oh, hey, he knows who this is. And since he looks to be in a hurry, he doesn't bother commenting on the tabloid article out loud, just hands over the magazine accompanied by his best 'yeah right' face. "Gotta go," he says into the phone before putting it away and taking a wider look around - just in case whatever's after Felix might decide to be after him, too. You never know with those two.
Felix pauses, reorients on George like a weasel trying to decide if he wants to pounce on a mouse. "Congressman," he says, a little drily, an amused light coming into his face.
Upon turning back, George rolls his eyes at Felix. "Oh, sure, pile on. I shouldn't complain too much, though, I knew I was doubling up my risk factor when we first got together." Yes, the young woman is the same one he was with in Chinatown that one time, albeit the photo on the cover is positively awful. Everyone loves a car crash.
Felix lays a hand on his chest, in a gesture of exaggerated innocence. "Whatever do you mean, sir?" he wonders, still in that perfect deadpan.
George arches a brow. "I should hire you for my spin team, you've got the enthusiasm for it. So what've you been up to, anyway? We never do seem to get a chance to talk for long."
Fel ponders this a long moment, and then says, deliberately, "Paranoia. This may seem very strange for an agent of the US government to say, but I think I've been followed."
"Not quite that strange," George replies, gesturing down the street: I'm game for a moving conversation if you are. "Bureau has to keep an eye out for the possibility of double agents, doesn't it? At least if there's any specific evidence going around."
Felix grunts at that, as if to say more might be to admit some sort of guilt. But he nods, and settles into a fast walk. Not so fast George can't keep up, though.
Which he does, turning momentarily one direction or the other along the way to let others get by. Now if they can just avoid women in red dresses, they'll be set.
What George says next might not quite be a pack of lies, but it dances closer to the edge than usual - both to shoehorn it into Felix's frame of mind, and to gloss over some parts that he would only trust to someone he knew better. "Actually, you might be able to give me some advice on that point. Hallie's been worried lately that she's picked up a stalker— not just the camera hounds, either, it's sounding more like it might be heading into Mark David Chapman territory. I'd suggest a restraining order, only she doesn't know what name to put on it."
"Is it because she's been harassing mutants?" Felix says, bluntly. Not….really sequitur. What is wrong with the man? He turns a sharp eye on George, but there's nothing particularly expectant in his gaze.
This question catches George up short for a good five or ten seconds. He might just be wondering what the agent has been drinking or smoking lately— or not. "Not that I'm aware of," he finally answers. "Why, have you heard something that I haven't?"
"A complaint, here and there. You apparently freaked your lady friend out, and she in turn went and scared some of those you were talking about," It's oblique bordering on incoherent, really. His gaze darts nervously around the crowd, doesn't settle on any one person for any great length of time.
George purses his lips. "That could fit, yes." Oblique enough for the typical casual listener, yes, but there's a lot of 'yes it sounds like we're being oblique about the same things' going on.
"So the problem is," he continues, "she's had a blackout." A series of blackouts, some of them partial and surgical, but meh, close enough. "So if she happens to run into them again, she could scare them all over again— and if she somehow tracks them down and tries to apologize, that could scare them, too. Rock and a hard place."
Felix notes, more easily, "I warned her away. It's a particular set. She…was rather paranoid about it, though." His tone is rueful.
Rounding a corner, George shrugs. "Her first experience was with the evil twins of the Human Torch and the Thing— that would've made me pretty paranoid. So she knows who to stay clear of, now? Owe you one, then." And now he takes a quick backward glance himself. "Listen, I'm probably behind the curve on the guys following you, but if I pick up anything specific, I'll let you know."
He looks as if he'd like to say something scathing back….but Fel's expression softens a little. "That would be….helpful," he decides upon.
George inclines his head, taking a business card out of his wallet and offering it to Felix. "Speaking of, I'm supposed to meet the little woman in a bit. Ring me if anything else comes up?"
Felix takes it without looking it, nods curtly. And without a further word, abruptly dodges down an alleyway - not a beat of hesitation, as if that were where he intended to head all along.
Well, he did say he was paranoid, too. George glances once in that direction on sheer instinct, then proceeds to lose himself in the crowd.